b4GLd 




LYRICS 

By LAURA BLACKBURN 



/ 




Class X^_XL6_2_ 
Boob 5 i^ 6 ^H 

CjQEXRIGHEr OEFOSm 



The Little Bookfellow Series 



Lyrics 



Lyrics 



By 

Laura Blackburn 




CHICAGO 
THE BOOKFELLOWS 

1920 



Three hundred copies of this little hook have 
been printed in the month of Octoher, 1920 



o"^ 



V^^.V 



"h 



.^^^' 



^%P 



Copyright 1920 by 
Flora Warren Seymour 



©C!,A601643 



NOV 23 1920 



THE TORCH PRESS 

CEDAR RAPIDS 

IOWA 



-|% V 



To 
BERT LESTON TAYLOR 



LYRICS 



EXULTATION 

Now violets are seen 
Along the river marge, 

While, further up the green 
Bank, the bright golden targe 

Of the brave dandelion gleams 

In the pure beams 

Of the earth-quickening sun: 

Life its great war has won ! 

High in a budding tree, 

A herald robin sings 

''Victory! Victory!" 
With reawakened bliss, 
As from a chrysalis. 

My spirit frees her wings 
And tears her bonds apart; 
The while, within my heart. 

Beauty and Melody, 
Dancing with nimble feet. 
His jubilant song repeat: 

** Victory! Victory!" 



II 

IMMUTABILITY 

A thousand years from now 
The grass will be as green, 
The bloom upon the bough 

In all its pride be seen, 
The robin's note be clear 
As that which now we hear; 
Life then will make its home 
Sweeter than honeycomb. 

'Tis happiness to feel 

That we have seen and heard 
Wonders that do reveal 

Nature's most holy word: 
'Tis ecstasy to know 
That in their ebb and flow 
The years, impartial, bless 
All hearts with loveliness. 



Ill 

I blew a kiss to Chloe, 
She blew it back to me — 

Across her bosom snowy, 
A breath from Araby ! 

Then suddenly I caught her 
And kissed her lips and brow 

The sailor's rosy daughter 
That keeps my kisses now! 

8 



IV 
TO AETEMIS 

Lovely huntress, thee I follow 
Over hill and through the meads, 

Through the forest, down the hollow 
Wheresoe'er thy fancy leads. 

When thy bow of silver brightens, 
When the star of even gleams, 

How the shadowed spirit lightens, 
Filled with glamour of thy beams. 

Cities vanish : dome and palace 
Sink into the whelming sea; 

While thy lily's golden chalice 
Brims with nectar, poured for me. 

Eagerly I quaff the measure. 
Toss aside the shining cup ; 

Lo, before us every treasure 
Of the quarry startles up ! 

Far adown the ways of wonder 
Hounds of magic lead the chase. 

Till the Morning 's distant thunder 
Mutters, frowning on our race. 

Still, within the paths of duty 
Flash the feet of Artemis! 

He who loves and worships beauty — 
All her starry dreams are his ! 



A castle that fronts the sea, 
With flags that kiss the sky 

'Tis only a picture fair; 
I gaze and pass it by. 

A valley afar for me, 

A cottage small and white, 
Yea, only a room abloom 

With love and candlelight! 



VI 

THE FLIGHT 

With lavender and rosemary 

I made my chamber sweet. 
And many a fruit from vine and tree 

I plucked for Love to eat; 
A wine so rare I poured for him 

It seemed the soul of flowers ; 
But long within my chamber dim 

It only charmed the hours. 

Love came at last — a sorry wight, 

A prodigal indeed. 
Within his eyes a shadowed light 

That made my bosom bleed. 
I wept ; I fled and left him there, 

And still from him I flee — 
How clean, how leal is lavender, 

How sweet is rosemary! 

10 



VII 

Now many a bird 

Awakens the morn, 
Where lately was heard 

But ravens forlorn. 

Now Hope in the breast, 
Whence frightened it flew, 

Is building its nest 
And singing to you. 

Oh hearken, my dear, 
Oh hearken, my sweet. 

The heart o' the year 
Is under your feet ! 



VIII 

You love the minor strain? 

Beloved, so do I; 
The old ancestral pain 

Within us cannot die. 

Still let us, dear, rejoice. 

And weep but when we must ; 

The soul's bright wings, through choice, 
Should never trail in dust! 



11 



As I went down to Alstead, 

At midnight's quiet hour, 
The moon, low down in heaven. 

Was like a lonely flower; 
The apple-trees, in blossom — 

Like spectral forms they seemed; 
I fancied them the spirits 

Of dreams that I had dreamed. 

As I came back from Alstead, 

Along the selfsame way, 
The sun, high up in heaven. 

Spake not of yesterday; 
The merry, merry blossoms, 

A-twinkle in the wind. 
Seemed like the wings of fairies. 

Or dreams within the mind. 



When April to the world returns. 

The soul expands her wings, 
And where the flaming tulip burns 

She hovers and she sings; 
But when unto the happy air 

The lilac shows its face — 
She folds her questing pinions there 

And will not leave the place. 



12 



XI 

To-day I heard a meadowlark 

His melody outpour; 
My soul put off her raiment dark 

And spread her wings to soar. 

Full twenty years bade me adieu, 
Nor gave a reason why — 

Go hear the meadowlarks if you 
Would be as young as I. 



XII 

Up, get you up and come 
Into the fields where hum 
The golden bees, and sing 
The sweet sweet birds of spring. 

Up, get you up, my love. 
To see upon the dove 
His newly burnished breast 
Against the bright sun pressed. 

Up, get you up before 
The blossoms at the door 
Have lost their freshening dew- 
The morn lacks only you ! 



13 



XIII 

With Poverty, I, laughing, sang 
Bright songs of golden cheer; 

With Luxury I muse, and sigh 
For many a vanished year. 

Thou merry, merry barefoot maid, 
Could I but kiss thy brow, 

This dull enchantress of the soul 
Were not my sorrow now. 



XIV 

Down the road to Annie, 
Up the road to May — 

Whither, whither shall I hasten? 
Waken, love, and say. 

Annie's eyes are starry 

As woodland tarns at night ; 

The eyes of May are fountains 
Of ever-dancing light. 

Down the road to Annie, 
Up the road to May — 

Whither, whither shall I hasten? 
Love is blind to-day. 



14 



XV 

THE LETTER 

By one small glowworm's light, 

I saw a fairy write 

Upon a rose's leaf 

A message sweet and brief. 

No sooner was he done 

Than winds came by, and one 

The petal took, and dropped it 

Just where a lily stopped it. 

And so I know full well 

Where that bright fay doth dwell 

To whom the fairy sends 

His love; but since we're friends, 

I do not choose to tell, 

For fear I break the spell. 

XVI 

COMRADES 

I asked from Life a sign 
To prove himself divine ; 
Behold, the while I spoke. 
An evening primrose woke. 
And through the purple sky 
A homing bird went by. 
And out a planet shone — 
And Life and I walked on 
Into the silent night 
As two old cronies might. 

15 



XVII 
NOCTURNE 

1 

The sweet day sinks into repose, 

The hour is pensive, dusk descends ; 
The flowers their weary eyelids close, 

The song of many a robin ends ; 
The sward with gracious dew is wet, 

The twilight star in purple glows — 
In lavender and violet. 

Dream thou until the darkness goes! 

2 

Moonlight ; silence ; unclouded skies ; 

Fragrance from unseen flowers; fireflies; 
One cricket heard; no leaf astir — 

And lo^ a loving worshiper! 
For all the beauty felt and seen, 

Within her temple, Thought, serene, 
In adoration, humbly prays 

The incense on her altar blaze ! 

3 

Like some bowed crone that dreams of times 

Forever gone, and, weak of sight. 
Forlorn, plods home, the old moon climbs 

The shadow-haunted range of night, 
Musing of those imperial hours 

When she was huntress, young and strong 
When Hesper glowed, and all the bowers 

Of Hellas woke to joyful song! 

16 



XVIII 

THE PASSION FLOWER 

Thou lowly, meek and lovely flower, 
But yesterday, at evening's hour, 
As trudged I upward with my load, 
I saw thee blooming by the road, 
And stayed my steps to wonder there 
That beauty so supremely fair 
Should waste its loveliness on me — 
Even as the Flower of Calvary ! 

XIX 

REGENERATION 

Favonius, young, warm-hearted god, 
Hither is lightly tripping now. 

See where with flowers he decks the sod ! 
See where with bloom he stars the bough! 

Here will I muse, and let his breath 
Quicken my winter-wearied blood — 

Until my barren thoughts of death, 
Even as these naked branches, bud ! 

XX 

JUNE 

Like nectar in a crystal bowl 
Are these June days unto my soul; 
My heart, born tongueless, beating high 
With joy, just hesitates to fly! 

17 



XXI 

My heart — my heart 's a gypsy 
That revels, hour by hour, 
To spend a wondrous dower; 

For June has made me tipsy 
And holds me in her power. 

How well I love to tarry 

Where spreads her leafy bower ! 
For June, June, June's the fairy 
That I would like to marry, 

And live within a flower ! 



XXII 

Lost am I in ways of beauty, 

Lost, and do not care : 
Lost, my starry duty 

Just to sing the sweet and fair. 

One with bird and bough and blossom, 

What is Fame to me? 
I — I fill my bosom, 

Fill my soul, Love, with thee ! 



18 



XXIII 

The rose is a royal lady 
That loves the lordly sun; 

The violet haunts the shady 
Cool cloisters of the nun. 

I would not wed with roses, 
And nuns they never wed ; 

I love the country posies 
Where I was born and bred ! 

I love the gorse and heather, 
And bluebells close beside — 

I'll find my cap a feather. 
And kiss a Highland bride ! 



'to^ 



XXIV 

The star that shines at eve so bright, 

At morn no eye may see; 
Yet who shall say another night 

It shall not gleam for thee ? 

This heart that lies in death so still — 
Where hides the soul it bore ? 

Its orbit surely it must fill — 
Lo, morning 's at the door ! 



19 



XXV 

ENOUGH 

The grass creeps everywhere, 
But only here and there 

A rose looks up ; 
The gods are kind indeed; 
The draught we mostly need 

Is in our cup. 



XXVI 

A catbird in the lilac bush, 

A robin in the tree — 
Their hearts are full of happiness, 

Their throats of melody. 

At morning and at eventide 
Their songs are like to wine ; 

But oh, my soul, to slay thy dole, 
A humble song is thine. 

The little wren that sings all day. 
He laughs at skies forlorn ; 
He builds within a thorn! 

He twitters here, he twitters there, 
* ^ I 'm glad that I was born ! ' ' 



20 



XXVII 

You sang to me, one distant day, 
''Over the hills and far away," 
A sad sweet song that still I hear, 
After how many a vanished year. 

I pray you sing once more to me. 
No song to set the spirit free, 
But one to cheer the weary heart, 
After the soul has played its part. 

Sing me a song that tells of rest. 
For love at last has found its nest; 
Sing me the song of happy men : 
Over the hills and home again. 



XXVIII 

Many a joy can wing the heart 

Beyond the desert of despair, 
Many a joy the dark boughs part 

And show a golden apple there ; 
But sweeter joy I cannot name 

Than when the heart is wintry sore. 
To hear the voice of love exclaim : 

''There's a rose, a rose at the door!^ 



21 



XXIX 

You little heart-shaped leaves 
That flutter in the sun, 

The nimble fancy weaves 
A soul for every one. 

The hearts we deem but mold- 
Their spirits dance on high; 

Reclothed in youth, they hold 
Bright revel in the sky. 

While plays the piper Wind, 
Dance on, and fade and fall; 

In your delight we find 
Felicity for all. 



XXX 

AN EARLY FLOWER 

Behold how beautiful, how sweet 

This gentle floweret at my feet ; 

Surely, to bless the barren sod. 

Before me must have journeyed God! 

Even as the star the Magi saw. 

Hither I felt its glory draw 

My soul ; and if I fail to find 

Its mangered Light, I'm blind, I'm blind! 



22 



XXXI 

Beholding thee, I thought 
Of lilies tall and white; 

But when I saw thy lips, 
Roses were my delight. 

Deep, deep into thine eyes 
I looked, and since that hour 

To me the violet 
Has been a holy flower! 



XXXII 
INNER LIGHT 

There is a light within the mind 

That far transcends the noontide ray, 
And in its glory oft we find 

The hopes, the dreams of yesterday ; 
For lo ! they live contented there. 

As young and beautiful as when 
Youth blew its bubbles into air 

And laughed at all the ways of men. 



XXXIII 

Just now, across my pillow drifted 
The briny scent of f ar-oif seas — 

Or was it Memory's veil that lifted 
And showed the stormy Hebrides ? 

23 



XXXIV 
THE POET 

He reaps the world, as men reap fields of wheat ; 

Sorrow and pain and joy to him belong; 
He gathers much of bitter and of sweet, 

And lo his golden sheaf — is but a song! 



XXXV 

Now appletrees at Alstead 
With early fruit are hung. 

And you may crush blueberries 
Upon your eager tongue ; 

And though my years are fifty, 
I feel but twenty young. 

Blow up, 3^011 winds of morning, 
And kiss your vales and hills; 

Wherever you be roaming, 
The cup of beauty fills 

With what divine elixir 
To dissipate our ills ! 

The blood's a sunny river 
That laughs upon its way ; 

The heart, it seems, is quaffing 
Invisible Tokay; 

The soul, to unseen pipers. 
Is but a dancing fay. 



24 



XXXVI 

BRIDGES 

Greater than any bridge of stone, 
Across whatever waters thrown; 
Greater than any heaving bridge 
Of ships across the ridge on ridge 
Of roaring seas : yea, greater still 
Is that strong bridge which from the will 
Of patriot soul to patriot soul 
Doth bear us to our shining goal — 
The unseen bridge of Liberty, 
Linking all hearts that would be free. 



XXXVII 

Along the starry Road of Dreams 

A soul went flying fast, 
When lo ! adown that ancient way 

A swifter Spirit passed. 

The first soul said : ' ' That Soul I love ; 

She hastens home, to wake; 
But I must keep the Road of Dreams, 

Or my poor heart will break." 



25 



XXXVIII 

I ride within a weary land, 

No moon, no star I see. 
Yet here and there, on every hand, 

A magic minstrelsy 
Makes bright the hour and sweet the place 
The thought of my beloved's face. 



XXXIX 

All upon a summer's day. 
Wandering down a mountain way. 
Love came singing like a bird ; 
Barred against him, long I heard. 

How my heart beat, how my blood 
Ran within me like a flood! 
Still behind my door I kept 
Till he passed me — then I wept, 

Wept big tears to know him gone. 
Gone forever, singing on ; 
Having shut to him the door. 
Singing unto me no more. 

Spring shall come again, they say. 
Summer follow down the way — 
Not for him who idly heard 
Love come singing like a bird. 



26 



XL 

A little love, a little flower 

My dear he gave to me ; 
They faded both within an hour — 

But one I still may see. 

The red red rose, while it did live, 

Gave all to me it might ; 
But Love, who had so much to give, 

Gave but a hint of light. 

The rose's heart is mine to keep; 

'Tis fragrant even in death; 
Being, perchance, for those who weep, 

Pity, or pity's breath. 



XLI 

Dream-led unto a tomb, 
A Love, forlorn, I spied, 

Within his hand a bloom 
That long ago had died. 

* ' Love, your flower is old ; 

Take mine, this moment blown. '^ 
But Love, with firmer hold. 

Still kept, and kissed, his own. 



27 



XLII 

Tell you how my songs are born ? 

With pleasure, love, I will : 
You smiled at me one wintry morn 

And I am singing still! 



XLIII 

Come back to me at morning, 

Come back beneath the moon, 
Come back, in white December, 

Or come, my dear, in June, 
The heart within my bosom 

With love shall brightly burn 
Like flame upon an altar, 

If never thou return ! 



XLIV 

Were she only kind as fair, 
Happy, happy wight were I, 

Dancing, dancing everywhere. 
Like to zephyrs in the sky. 

Were she only half so sweet, 

Or to beauty were I blind, 
These my plodding weary feet, 

Just for joy, could race the wind! 



28 



XLV 
WARWICK CHIMES 

As when along the Avon's banks 

I roamed and lost the road to cares, 
Within my soul fair Warwick's chimes 

Still play their quaint old English airs; 
For often now, when loud the roar 

Of mingled sound invades the street. 
Some note I hear that wafts me clear 

Of all save realms divinely sweet. 

Again in Warwickshire, I muse 

In man}^ a haunt that Shakespeare knew ; 
Among spring flowers, I quaff cool cups 

That brim with more than mortal dew; 
With visions bright that beckon on, 

A youth, I walk as in a dream ; 
Hope's paladin, I feel akin 

To grove and sky, to field and stream. 

With joy at heart, in Faeryland 

Down moonlit vales I wander free ; 
The spell of Arden, like the wand 

Of Prospero, is over me; 
While golden clear such chimes I hear 

As never yet on earth were born — 
The chimes that play through yesterday, 

Through now, and through tomorrow morn ! 



29 



XL VI 

Singing a mirthful song, 
Light-hearted as the May, 

A Dream, forgotten long. 

Came wandering home to-day. 

'' Welcome, Dream," I said, 
''Right welcome to my door; 

Returned as from the dead, 
Depart my love no more." 

But, singing, singing, passed 

That olden Dream from sight; 

And where I heard it last — 
I pitch my tent tonight ! 



XLVII 
THE SECRET STAIR 

From out the heart unto the brain 

There leads a winding secret stair, 
Down which the Soul, in mortal pain. 

Oft goes to heal her of despair ; 
And having come unto her friend. 

She slumbers in a chamber dark, 
Until, refreshed, her sorrows end, 

And high in heaven sings the lark. 



30 



XL VIII 

Dream that I shall dream tomorrow, 

Be thou sweet and fair, 
One from whom the soul may borrow 

Antidote for care, 
One for whom the face of Sorrow 

Fosters not despair. 

Time has been a sullen master : 

Fate has made her woof 
Spell but shadow and disaster; 

Fortune stands aloof; 
Joy than Hope departed faster; 

Love has flown my roof. 

Dream that I shall dream hereafter. 

Charm my state of gloom; 
Swing from each forsaken rafter 

Censers that perfume ; 
Bring me Song and bring me Laughter, 

Crowned with many a bloom. 

Spread a feast, and summon Pleasure ! 

Summon Life to dine ; 
Summon Joy to pour a measure 

Full of starry wine ; 
Summon Love to pile his treasure 

Round me, Dream divine ! 



31 



XLIX 

THE BEACON 

This little Grecian lamp 
Against the dewy damp 
And ebony of night 
I set to be his light. 
I pray that he behold 
And come to me, and fold 
Me close unto his breast, 
So make me wholly blest. 

If this, Lamp, come true, 
New oil shall gladden you ; 
But if my love come not. 
Burn out, and be forgot; 
For better 'tis to sleep, 
And better 'tis to weep, 
And better 'tis to pray 
In darkness, than by day. 



Reverse the glass, the hour that's flown 
We nevermore can make our own; 
But this new hour — while runs the sand 
Let Life, the dreamer, take Love 's hand ; 
So master Time, so capture bliss, 
Bridging Death's chasm with a kiss. 



32 



LI 

Of late you sang of Phyllis, 

You sing of me to-day ; 
To-morrow, Amaryllis 

Perchance shall light your lay. 
Your song is gay and fickle 

Your love the same, I fear ; 
Shall I escape the sickle 

When other maids appear? 

I pray you, dear, remember, 

The music, not the name; 
Eechristen June December, 

Her heart were still aflame. 
Below the rime and meter 

The source of singing lies — 
"Within no Eden sweeter 

Than Chloe 's wondrous eyes ! 

Come let us dance a measure, 
While all the world is fair; 

For love's a joy to treasure, 
Whatever mask it wear. 



33 



LII 

When I thy voice do hear, 
Divinely sweet and clear, 
My soul, enraptured, sings, 
Expands its wintered wings 
And tiptoe stands for flight ; 
And were it not that I 
Find heaven within my sight, 
Most surely it would fly! 



LIII 

Often have I heard it said. 
They who never love are dead. 
They who love immortal are : 
Love is like unto a star. 

This explains the world to me ; 
They who love are spirits free 
In the gardens of the gods; 
They who hate are slaves and clods. 

Heaven and Hell the blue sky spans ; 
Ariels and Calibans — 
Each his realm doth choose and own; 
Love's the only password known. 



34 



LIV 
INTERLUDE 

Still upon the slopes of Hybla 

Sing the nightingales and hum the bees 
Still the sunlight and the moonlight 

Glint and glimmer on the Grecian seas. 

Still the rose in Attic gardens 

Blooms as fair as when Aspasia shone ; 

Still the violet scents the shadows 
Round about the ruined Parthenon. 

All is gone of ancient Glory ; 

Still is beauty everywhere at hand; 
Up and out from its enchantment 

Yet shall come new luster to the land. 

Never yet was beauty wasted, 

Never yet in vain awoke a flower: 

Time demands a fallow season; 

Glory sleeps within her magic bower. 



LV 
IN HOSPITAL 

Let all the bright dreams go ! 

But wait, let two remain: 
The hope that conquers woe. 

The rest that follows pain. 



35 



LVI 

So many keys unlock the mind 
That thoughts are wont to roam; 

Abroad what laughing nymphs we find 
That are but nuns at home ! 

And yet sometimes the heart so pleads 

To cloister every thought, 
That for a time I still my reeds 

And leave the world unsought. 

But when within her gloomy cell 

The soul has found repose, 
Dreaming, with Nature she doth dwell, 

And scents the morning rose ! 



LVII 

"When no longer he remembers 

The dreams he loved of yore. 
The dreamer's life is only embers 

That glow, but blaze no more. 
Down against his rooftree shaken. 

What icy boughs affright ! 
By all his golden guests forsaken. 

What mockery were light! 



36 



LVIII 

If love, if beauty is a dream, 

If life's a dream, my dear; 
If this fair world doth only seem 

A bright and rolling sphere, 
What need to mourn? What need to fret? 

What need to shed a tear? 
Let mystics dream; let us forget 

Their dreams, for ours, my dear. 



LIX 

What have the years left us? 

What will they bring? 
Life — life's not bereft us: 

Still we can sing. 

See ! blue skies above us. 

Green sod below ; 
Friends laugh with and love us; 

Bright the days flow. 

Time, drop shades around us; 

Death, call us hame ; 
Say not that you found us 

Sorry we came. 



37 



LX 

If I might sing thee a song, 
Out of my heart to thine, 

Winter perchance were not so long, 
Or yet were full o' shine. 

If I might whisper a word, 
The word that I would say, 

My heart were surely a bird 
Upon a budding spray. 



LXI 

How brightly flew the days. 
How bonny was the weather. 

When down the leafy ways 
We roamed the world, together. 

Our only tears were born 

Of sudden mirth and laughter; 

If Time bestowed a thorn. 
What roses blossomed after! 

Those youthful days are flown. 
The dreams we had are vanished. 

But who can say we own 

No joys for pleasure banished? 

How sweetly fly the days, 
How golden is the weather, 

As down the autumn ways 
We tread the world together ! 



38 



LXII 

Ah, yes, again the dew 

Shall sparkle on the grass ; 

But shall I be with you 

When that bright hour shall pass 

To-morrow morn, perchance, 

Shall be as fair as this; 
But shall I win your glance? 

And shall I feel your kiss? 

Our joys have golden wings, 

And fast they fly away ; 
To every moment clings 

The ghost of yesterday. 



. LXIII 

Pursuing Happiness, a sweeter maid 

Than she I found — a little Grief in gray. 

I stopped to comfort her, and she repaid 
My love with love that shall not pass away. 

Soon, soon, with roses crowned, came Happiness, 
Looked in and smiled, and beckoned me to roam; 

But seeing Grief was in her bridal dress, 

"Wondered, came in — and makes with us her home. 



39 



LXIV 

All the world 's a weariness, 
Only care and weariness; 

Hearts are turned to stone. 
Psyche, Psyche, whither. 

Whither art thou flown? 

Flown have I to Beauty, 
Far away to Beauty; 

If it matter where. 
Seek me in the woodlands, 
By the streams, in woodlands; 

Love and I are there. 



LXV 

The days go by like laughing maids. 
No sooner have we cried them hail 

Than with farewells into the shades 
Of night they vanish down the vale. 

Ah, if we might but one detain. 
And speak the love that in us lies ; 

Alas, the thought, the hope is vain. 
None backward looks, and none replies. 

A little while the skies do blush, 
A little while 'tis ours to see. 

When lo ! there comes a purple hush, 
A star, a tear, a memory. 



40 



LXVI 

'Tis but a glance from thorn to flower, 
'Tis but a breath from joy to tears ; 

We often live within an hour 
A rounded life of many years. 

The day that I was happiest 
I also wept and sorrowed most : 

For Love at morn I had for guest ; 
At eve, I only had his ghost. 



LXVII 

Thou art the flower that scents my way, 
Thou art the light that makes my day, 
Thou art the song within my heart; 
Yea, all of these and more thou art. 

Unto my soul thou art the wings, 
Unto my lips the mountain springs 
Of liberty, yea, more besides — 
Thou art the hope that still abides ! 



41 



LXVIII 

Dreamless, I slept; awake, I heard 

The clear song of a mating bird 

That seemed to say. What dreams were thine 

Through the long night? I'm telling mine. 

Silent, I mused awhile, then said, 

"0 bird, I dream by day instead 

Of night ; yet, if my heart speaks true, 

Thy heart most surely sings for two ! ' ' 



LXIX 

Ah, Psyche, once, how long ago. 

The cup of joy was mine; 
Alas, alas, I shall not know 

Again that golden wine; 
My head is white as mountain snow, 

My heart an empty shrine. 

The silken sails of happiness 

Are torn beyond repair; 
No more they feel the wind's caress, 

The urge to islands fair; 
The helm unto the wave is less 

Than seaweed rocking there. 

A few days more, and then the last 

And bitter cup for me; 
The time of earth adventure past, 

Psyche, what for thee ? 
To what far port shall wing thy mast? 

Beyond what airy sea? 

42 



LXX 

Look you, maids, and weep the while, 
Love lies dead upon the grass. 

See! about his lips a smile; 

Stoop and kiss him ere you pass. 

Here, behold his arrows lie, 
There his little bow, unstrung; 

Pity, pity he should die. 

Honey-sweet and golden-young. 

Sing for him, so full of grace; 

Weep for him — he taught us how ; 
Lying here in death's embrace. 

Love was never loved till now. 

Silly, silly maids were they. 

Grieving at his head and feet — 

Up he sprang and ran away. 
Golden-young and honey-sweet. 



LXXI 
A TWILIGHT FEAR 

Now that the sun has departed. 

Over the land. 
Slyly, vapors reach out 

Hand after ghostly hand. 
For whom are they searching ? 

And will they take hence 
My love, the wilding rose. 

By the old stone fence? 

43 



LXXII 

The fair day dies 

And stars arise, 
UpfoUowed by the moon; 

Bright watch they keep 
While flowers do sleep 
Upon the breast of June 

When goes away 

Our golden day 
Of life, and we lie dumb. 

What light shall bless 

Forgetfulness 
Until the morning come? 



LXXIII 
SOLITUDE 

I dreamed I journeyed with the ghosts 
Of Lethe 's wide and poppied strands ■ 

The unremembered unknown hosts 
That once had lived in many lands. 

Long, long I wandered friendless there. 

Until I met a merry shade 
That, smiling, bowed and spake me fair 

''Thyself am I; be not afraid." 



44 



LXXIV 
THANATOS 

Dying upon a summer's day, 

Eedolent with rose, 
I could sleep in the deep grave 

With affluent repose; 
But oh to die in winter 

And lie in the cold sod, 
I could not even feel 

The warm hand of God! 



LXXV 

The sun that shines with splendor bright, 

Kissing with ardent lips the flowers. 
Impartial, fills the soul with light 

And warms these wintered hearts of ours ; 
For well he knows 
That man and rose 
Have but a little time to live, 
And he a boundless love to give. 

The rain that falls like heavy tears, 

Weighting to earth the tender bloom, 
Impartial, floods our hearts with fears 
And drives gay dreams unto the tomb ; 
Yea, dreams, like flowers. 
Forsake their bowers. 
The best and brightest soonest fade : 
Life 's now a glory, now a shade. 

45 



LXXVI 

SLUMBER TRAIL 

As I go wandering by, 
The whippoorwill is playing 
His flute among the pines, 
While vapors white are straying 
Below the star that shines 
Within a purple sky. 
The unseen river ripples 
With music low and sweet. 
While many a fairy tipples 
The dew about my feet, 
And winks a golden eye — 
Or, 'tis just a firefly 
That wanders here and there, 
To see that every fair 
Young flower is fast asleep 
Within his greenwood keep. 

I feel the hour's a casket 
Wherein its jewels rare 
Are mine, if I but ask it, 
And show for them I care. 
As June doth put a blossom 
Into her shining hair, 
I take them to my bosom 
And happily I wear. 
I hang them round my sorrows 
Like carcanets of light; 
And in their glories blended. 
By spirits kind attended, 

46 



I climb the pathway splendid, 
And hope to gain the height. 



LXXVII 

LIFE 

Life's but the filling of a cup 
To give unto the traveler Death; 
And if he never think to give 
As much to us, he's but a clown. 
Yes, I have hope, as drop by drop 
My cup grows full, that for the draught 
I give I shall receive — perchance 
A starry welcome at his door ! 



LXXVIII 

The fire is out within my heart, 
Yet there, with folded wings, 

Serene, forgetful to depart, 
My spirit sits and sings. 

One little candle is her light, 
A dream that flickers low — 

Enough to keep away the night 
Until the time to go. 



47 



LXXIX 

Ah, if thy heart were not so cold, 
If spring might enter there, 

Perchance from out the quickened mold 
Would leap a violet fair. 

And if that flower should wake and see 

Twin sisters in thine eyes, 
Wouldst thou rejoice, or only be 

Distant as paradise? 



LXXX 

There was a lady young and tall, 

And full of every grace ; 
Yea, she was lovlier far than all 

Her sisters fair o' face. 

A-riding through the morn she went, 

Upon a summer's day, 
And all who saw forgot content 

And put their work away. 

They sought her far, they sought her wide, 

They saw her not again — 
The most alluring Dream doth ride 

But once the ways of men. 



48 



LXXXI 

Rough wind's at the corner; 

No coy nodding there, 
For he is a scorner 

Of all that is fair. 
So keep to your shelter, 

My sweet autumn rose, 
Or soon, helter-skelter, 

Your last petal goes. 



LXXXII 

I have no way of knowing, 
I have no eyes to see 

The spirits and the shadows 
That ward or hinder me. 

But in my heart I feel them. 
And in my soul I hear 

The murmur of their sorrow, 
The music of their cheer. 

We meet with joys supernal, 
We meet imperial woes — 

And now our lot is thistles, 
And now, my dear, the rose. 

The wounds of many battles 
May leave us worn and sore ; 

But oh, the balmful gardens 
Were not so sweet before ! 



49 



LXXXIII 

*'Put aside the lyre 
And cease to sing; 

Cover up thy fire 
Till it be spring!" 

Put my lyre away? 

When Death shall come 
Not till that dark day 

Shall Song be dumb! 



LXXXIV 

Laughing, shining, the moments run on, 
With more to follow when they are gone ; 
Whence they come and whither they go, 
Only the gods and fairies know. 

How sweet, idle here, to watch them pass. 
Dancing and singing across the grass — 
Did they not take, as they pass by. 
Gleams of glory from Beauty's eye: 

Gleams of glory till glory is gone ! 
Laughing and singing and dancing on. 
Leaving us dumb, and leaving us cold. 
Gray as November, and old, so old. 



50 



LXXXV 

TO MEMORY 

I envy not, Mnemosyne, 
The lonely task assigned to thee ; 
For every pleasure in thy store, 
Of sorrows hast thou not a score? 

Thy tablets, overwritten much. 
Wrinkle, and crumble to the touch; 
Their legends fade to myth, or less — 
Till thou thyself art nothingness. 

And yet, like woodland nymphs, perchance 
The graceful Thoughts that round thee dance 
At times, reward thy sadder hours, 
Dropping from their white hands white flowers 

Sweet flowers that, though they die from sight, 
Sprinkle the shadows with a light 
Akin to stars, and leave behind 
Olympian fragrance in the mind. 



51 



LXXXVI 

From blossom time to time of snow 
Is but a pleasant road to go; 
Come, let us travel side by side, 
Until the last blown bud has died. 

From time of snow to blossom time 
The way leads through a dismal clime; 
But if together, love, we fare 
"VVe shall not sigh for roses there. 



LXXXVII 
THE HARVESTER 

I only reap the golden days, 

The leaden I forget; 
Gleaning, I climb the mountain ways 

At sunrise and sunset. 

The granaries of the Soul I pile 
So full of treasured light, 

The blackest Hour shall see me smile 
To find no room for night. 



52 



LXXXVIII 
UNTIL THE MORNING BREAK 

Getting along, getting along 

Upon the sunset way; 
Still there 's time for a merry song, 

Whatever earth may say. 

Deeper, deeper the shadows grow 

(Closer, love, to me) ; 
Colder, colder the great winds blow, 

Up from the wintry sea. 

No need to ask old Time for alms 

(We who have had so much) ; 
When Death shall come he'll find our palms 

Warm to his icy touch. 

And if we may, we '11 sing to him 

The sweetest song we know, 
And out into the silence dim 

Follow where he may go. 

Follow where he may go, my own, 

Whatever road he take, 
Down the vast gorge of the Unknown — 

Until the morning break. 



53 



LXXXIX 

Summer, fading, take my heart, 
Take my heart with you away ! 

Where can I, when you depart, 
Glean one pleasure from the day 

Love you brought me ; love must go 
Wheresoever you may lead; 

Hearts of roses, under snow. 
Cannot weep, and cannot bleed! 



XC 



Along the road a maid came singing, 

What she sang — I hear it now; 
Stopped in the grain the sickle swinging. 

Stayed in the furrow the plow. 
Entranced we stood, and long we listened; 

Not before was life so fine. 
Never the sun more brightly glistened, 

Not before was air such wine. 

Along the road a maid went singing. 

Hidden soon by bush and bough ; 
Into the grain the blade went swinging, 

Into the soil went the plow. 
Never in all my wide world roaming 

Song so sweet made glad the morn — 
But one is born for love and homing. 

And one for neither is born. 



54 



XCI 

Whence come those tears that brightly run 
Like brooklets down thy cheek? 

What fountains leap into the sun? 
What ocean do they seek? 

The tarn of sorrow cannot flood 

A heart so young as thine; 
The springs of joy are in thy blood ! 

I would such springs were mine. 

Unto my desert they would give 

The green it misses now; 
Again, and yet again, should live 

The blossom on the bough. 



XCII 

Cold is the sky, and gray; 

Tears in the cloud. 
Where is the sun today? 

Hope's in her shroud. 

Warm is the sky, and bright; 

Birds on the wing; 
Life, love, liberty, light — 

Hear the world sing! 



55 



XCIII 

Singing, along the road there came 

A very merry wight, 
Upon his lips the rosy flame 

Of old and new delight. 

And lo ! he met a sad-eyed friend, 
And loud he laughed and long, 

To think a life unto its end 
Should lack the joy of song. 

The other, sighing, turned away, 
And muttered, under breath: 

''Poor fool; upon his dying day 
He'll smile, and jest with Death. 

And I who saw this drama played, 
Knew not which way to run — 

To Jollity, within the shade. 
Or Sorrow, in the sun. 



56 



XCIV 

The wind is chill upon the wold, 

The cricket sings no more, 
While blown leaves huddle, dry and old. 

About my door. 

Alas ! for song, for beauty, dead ; 

Alas ! that life is brief — 
But this no cricket ever said, 

No last sere leaf. 

The cricket chirps until it dies, 

The leaves, until they pass, 
Are gay ; 'tis only man that sighs 

'^Alas, alas!" 



xcv 

I will not name thee fair 
The while thou art so cold ; 

I will not worship where 
No poppy warms the mold. 

Forget thy somber ways, 
Forget thy hand of snow — 

That all my soul may praise, 
That all my heart may glow ! 



57 



XCVI 
THE FLEETS OF AUTUMN 

High-piled with fair imagined sweets 

Of Summer's lost renown, 
Upon the stream, behold the fleets 

Of Autumn leaves drift down. 

More ships are here than once arose 

To swell the Persian's joy; 
More, and more glorious, than those 

That sped to conquer Troy. 

To unknown ports they wander far, 
And none shall homeward veer ; 

For Summer's gone, and her bright star 
No longer rules the year. 

Pray, answer me, thou shallow main, 

Pray, tell to me, gale. 
Was our young princess darkly slain 

That all these ships might sail? 

Or did some goddess intervene, 

And spirit her away? 
Will she return to be our queen, 

Beyond this dismal day? 

At least, Fate, these fleets appeal 

Unto the souls of men: 
From out the wrecks of dreams the keel 

Of hope is framed again ! 



58 



XCVII 
TO MELANCHOLY 

Dark maid, full often have I thought 

To make a little song to thee, 
But never could my soul be brought 

To sing the face I may not see; 
For never yet I passed thy door 

But thou didst seem a mourner there. 
Thy head bent low as thou didst pour 

Great tears behind thy shrouding hair. 

And so I never stayed to ask 

The road, nor yet to ask for bread, 
As thou, indifferent in thy mask. 

Moved not, nor word of welcome said. 
Moreover, that innoxious thorn 

Which I had fostered in my breast 
I hid beneath a rose of morn ! 

Unfit was I to be thy guest. 

And yet how often do I take 

The lonely way that leads to thee; 
How often, too, my heart doth ache 

Thy sorrow-haunted face to see; 
For still I long to touch my strings 

To melody so fine and sweet 
That thou shalt give me of thy springs 

And of thy manna bid me eat. 



59 



XCVIII 

THE OLD SINGER 

I've sailed the sea of Rhyme 

A goodly bit of time, 

And touched at many a shore, 

But I shall sail no more ; 

The hour has come to be 

A sailor home from sea, 

A dreamer by the fire, 

A listener to the lyre 

By other minstrels played, 

Drowning the songs I made — 

Until along the coast 

I wander but a ghost, 

A shoreward-wafted weed 

That clutches at a reed. 

Yet knows, at morn and night, 

The lifting tides of light ! 



60 



XCIX 

Into the mold I drove my spade, 

Humming an olden tune : 
Full-blown roses — how fast they fade, 

Their fragrance dies how soon ! 

An opening bud looked up and said : 

''Tomorrow you may see 
The fairest rose that ever wed 

Butterfly, moth or bee." 

I labored there another dawn; 

Scentless the rose and sere ; 
The bee had come, the bee had gone. 

No butterfly was near. 

Full-blown roses — how fast they fade. 
Their fragrance dies how soon! 

Into the mold I drove ray spade, 
Humming an olden tune. 



61 



c 

HAPPY VALLEY 

I walked a winding footpath, 

With beauty all a-thrill; 
On one side shone a river 

On one side knelt a hill ; 
Reflected in the water 

Was flower and bush and tree, 
And in his leafy palace 

A thrush sang joyously. 

How well do I remember 

Each sight and sound and scent; 
But I have quite forgotten 

Whither and why I went ; 
And I've no recollection 

What cares I tossed away, 
Nor have the least remembrance 

What dreams beguiled the day. 



62 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proces: 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologie: 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATIO 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 
(724) 779-2111 



